


What Makes A Life

by fangirl_squee



Category: The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Pre-Series, minor apperance by finnick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27098347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: How Effie, Capitol orphan, became Effie Trinket, Hunger Games Escort.
Relationships: Effie Trinket/OFC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	What Makes A Life

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to max, for looking this over.

Effie knows that to the people of District 12, and Haymitch in particular, all Capitol people look alike. Not physically of course, but in that way that all high levels of wealth look alike to those below. To anyone raised in the Capitol, or in the wealthier circles of the wealthier inner Districts, wealth is  _ distinctive _ . You can tell who has power, who is trying to claw their way up the social ladder and how they’re getting there, and who is old money and knows they don’t have to try. 

They look at Effie and they just  _ know  _ she’s an orphan.

It’s not necessarily a negative judgement people are making. If someone is working within the Hunger Games, then that person is most likely an orphan. Oh, the Stylists come from other means, and the Game Makers are usually ruthless social climbers from high-ranking Capitol families, but Escorts and their Assistants are always orphans. It’s the job you aim for when you have nothing but charm at your disposal and nothing in particular to lose.

Effie doesn’t know much about the family she was born from. There are records, but since Effie’s family weren’t particularly noteworthy they are sparse. They were a family of middle-class factory management from the outer part of the Capitol. She was their first child. She was being looked after by a neighbour when an accident at their factory had killed both her parents. She has other family somewhere in the Capitol, but they didn’t want to take her in (she tries not to take it personally, children are an expense not everybody wants to afford), so she was placed in the Outer Capitol Orphanage. That’s all the information she’ll ever have.

The records don’t show her name. It’s entirely possible, based on her age when she died, that they hadn’t chosen one yet. Not that it matters – children entering the Orphanage are given new names along with their new social status. It’s a regulation procedure put in place to prevent orphans from seeking out their birth families.

Effie decides fairly early on in life that it’s easier not to know. They would never be part of her life, and she has more important things to focus on that irrelevant information. The Capital is her family now. Anything else is in the past and, like the children of the orphanage are always told, she must look to the future.

There are four paths out of the orphanage:

  1. A couple come and adopt you. This is an unlikely option for her, as most Capitol couples who adopt will opt for the Inner Capitol Orphanage, but it would return you to the kind of life you would presumably have had.
  2. Someone takes you as their lover after you come of age. Orphans can’t legally marry, but there have been instances of an orphan becoming a permanent part of a Capitol citizen’s life. It’s a tenuous and sometimes dangerous position, but you would live a well-kept, luxurious life.
  3. Get an apprenticeship. Even at a young age, Effie knew that this would be the destiny for most of them in the Outer Capitol Orphanage – sewing gowns you’ll never see for Capitol ladies you’ll never meet, working on the maintenance of the city, maybe getting into guard training to see the Districts. Tiring work, but good enough to live on.
  4. Work within the Hunger Games.



It’s the last point that is the most competitive. Unlike the other three choices it comes with guaranteed social standing, power, and the glamour that comes with the Hunger Games. Even if you’re an orphan, people don’t look down their nose at people who work within the Games.

These benefits mean it’s not exactly easy to be chosen for a place within the Games. They only take as many as they think will be suitable for the work, which could theoretically be all of their applicants in a given batch or none at all. They look for confidence, someone who learns quickly, someone who can follow orders precisely.

It’s Effie’s dream.

When she was young, she used to watch recaps of the Hunger Games after their classes were over, while she helped fix the younger girls hair into an approximation of the Capitol’s latest style. She can remember once how a flash of movement on the flickering screen caught her eye. It was a replay of the last Hunger Games - a woman led the way for two Tributes through the crowd. Effie hadn’t seen the footage before. It’s possible it wasn’t aired during the Hunger Games the first time around, sometimes they’d run out of time to show all the footage they shot during the Games, saving it to sprinkle it through the years. As though anyone could forget the Games.

The crowd cheered the Tributes, but they parted before the woman. It’s something like respect.

Effie looked up at their Caregiver, Betony. “Who’s that woman?”

Betony glanced up from where she was marking their day’s schoolwork. “That? That’s Helana Dove, the Escort for District Two.”

After that, Effie learnt everything she could about being an Escort, even though she was still too young to be considered for any role in the Hunger Games for the next round of Training. She wanted to be prepared when it came time for her to be chosen. Betony always told them that being from the Outer Orphanage would never be a damper on their careers as long as they were focused on their goals and they worked hard, and Effie believed her. Effie read and researched as much as she could in between her duties at the Orphanage.

An Escort is someone with the respect of others.

An Escort’s job is to know the city.

An Escort must be able to talk to anyone and be effortlessly charming about it.

An Escort is someone who has power, enough to go almost anywhere and do almost anything they wanted.

An Escort is someone who was in a safe enough position in the Capitol that it doesn’t matter that they don’t have a family.

An Escort. It’s her only chance to be  _ somebody _ , with a life of her own, with power of her own. And if all she has is determination and charm, then that is what she will use.

She reads up on everything she can get her hands on. There are old interviews, and training manuals, and she reads and watches them all. When she runs out of those, she uses her initiative (like Betony is always telling them to do) and calls some of the retired Escorts on record. There’s only five, and two of them won’t answer her call.

The ones that do answer must realise that she’s not, as she claims, a reporter looking for an interview, but they share a few anecdotes and give her some advice, their aged voices crackling through the line.

Meet their eyes but don’t stare. Speak when spoken to and laugh when appropriate. Don’t ask questions,  _ especially _ of the Tributes. When entering a room, keep your chin up, and your smile on. Never forget that you are the face of whatever District you are an Escort to, even when the Games are not on. She writes it all down in the back of her schoolwork notebook.

She gets in trouble, of course. She’s not supposed to be using the phone, and especially not to call anyone of that social class. She replays what the old Escorts told her as she does her extra chores, trying to memorise their words as well as she’s memorised the maps of the city streets surrounding the Games arena.

She’s twelve years old when some representatives from the Games visit the Orphanage. Betony has put them all in their nicest uniforms and promise to be on their best behaviour during their interviews. Their uniforms are a heavily-starched white, and it itches at Effie’s skin as she tries not to fidget in line.

This is her one chance. They do written entrance tests, of course, but everyone knows it’s the  _ charm  _ of the Escorts that really makes the difference between acceptance and not, and they never,  _ ever  _ take repeat interviews. If she doesn’t get past this stage, she will never,  _ ever  _ be able to be an Escort. She will never be able to reach her dream, and everything she’s done will have been a waste.

It feels like an eternity waiting in line before she’s called in. They’re doing the interviews in Betony’s office. The two interviewers – a man in a tight purple leather suit, and a woman covered in yellow ribbons – are sitting on the couch. They gesture for her to sit opposite them. Effie tries to memorise as much about them without looking as though she’s staring at them.

No one in the orphanage is allowed to wear such bright colours. Even Betony wears the same grey and white uniform that they do.

“Hello” the woman consults her clipboard, “Effie. My name is Lex and this is Mycho, and we’ll be conducting your interview today.”

Effie gives them her most well-practised charming smile. “It’s lovely to meet you both, thank you so much for this opportunity.”

Lex and Mycho both smile, and Effie feels like she passed the first test.

The rest of their questions go by in a blur – what was her favourite part of the Games (the Tribute interviews), who was her favourite last year (District 2), did she think she’d enjoy being part of the Games ( _ yes _ ), what would she most like to do (be an Escort). They both smile again when she says that.

“That can be a very... difficult job sometimes,” says Lex, “are you sure that’s what you want to do most?”

Effie nods. “More than  _ anything _ . I know it can be hard, but I’d like to…” she searches for the right words, because this might be the most important thing she ever says. “… I’d like to be able to work with the Tributes and help them to see the Capitol like I do.”

Lex and Mycho lean forward.

“And how do you see the Capitol?” says Mycho.

That question is easy. After all, Betony tells them every day over breakfast, as part of the orphan’s pledge to the Capitol.

“The Capitol is my family,” says Effie, “the Capitol looks after me, like it looks after the Districts, and we should all be thankful for everything we are given and try our best to give back every day.”

Lex and Mycho both nod. They smile at each other. Effie curls her toes in her shoes to hide her excitement.

“Thank you Effie, that’s all we need from you for now,” says Mycho.

“Please tell the next person to come in,” says Lex.

If waiting in line felt like an eternity, then waiting the week it takes them to get the results is  _ agony _ . Betony can barely get anyone to focus in their classwork, and ends up giving them all half-days instead. They all watch for the messenger in shifts.

Finally,  _ finally _ , the messenger arrives. Betony reads through the list first, a serious look on her face. They gather in front of her office, quieter than they’ve been all week. If Betony is surprised to see them all when she opens her door, she doesn’t show it. As she looks over them, letter in hand, Effie feels as though she can hardly breathe.

“They have selected four of you,” says Betony, “once I have said your name, please go into my office and wait. I will tell you the next part of the process then, understood?” They nod. “Very well. Aeth, Hawthorn, Savi, and Effie, please join me in my office. Everyone else, please go back to your studies.”

Effie feels a wave of relief wash over her. She made it.  _ She made it _ .

Betony walks past them to her desk, where there are four black boxes.

“In half an hour you will be picked up from here by a representative from the Games. They will take you to the training house that will be your new home. It is very likely that you will never see this place, or me, ever again.” Betony swallows, before continuing. “In these boxes is your new uniform. After you leave my office, I want you all to go shower and change into your new uniforms. You are not permitted to take anything else with you, understand?”

They nod. Betony hands them each a box. They have their names written on the top in flowing silver lettering. Effie traces a finger over it. She has never felt more beautiful.

Effie goes through the process of bathing and changing in a daze. Her uniform is not unlike her Orphanage uniform, but the fabric feels thicker, richer somehow. The grey of it makes her think of heavy thunderclouds.

She doesn’t have many things, a few books and toys she’s claimed as her own. She gives them to some of the younger children and puts her old orphanage uniforms in the laundry. She makes her bed one last time, and goes to wait out the front.

Betony hugs them goodbye and says she’ll miss them all terribly, and to not forget her. She dabs at her eyes, but Effie can’t tell if she’s really crying or not.

Their driver doesn’t speak to them on their way to the training house, and they do not speak to each other either. Effie tries not to be nervous (they look for people with  _ confidence _ ), and tries to distract herself by looking out the window.

As orphans, they weren’t really allowed to go outside the orphanage unsupervised. If - no,  _ when -  _ she completes all her training, she will know the whole city from memory not just from maps but from being out in the streets herself. She will be able to direct her Tributes to any place in the city without any aid. She stares up at the buildings as they speed past. She’s seen videos of the city of course, but seeing the impossibly tall buildings through the window glass is another thing entirely.

The training house is in the centre of the Capitol. They’re shown around – the training rooms where they’ll spend most of their days, the research library that holds all the information on past Games, their sleeping chambers (she’ll only have to share with three other people, which seems so  _ private _ after the orphanage dormitories). The meeting hall is on the top floor, and through the wall of windows Effie can see the Games stadium.

Effie can barely sleep that first night, she’s so excited. She can’t stop thinking about the way the city looked in the afternoon light, spread out in front of her like a living map.

In the morning, the new trainees are assembled in the meeting hall. They’re told what to expect from their training. They will start training in all fields of the Hunger Games, and then they will be re-interviewed in two year’s time to test their aptitude for each position. After that, they will have more training in their specific area, and then they will undergo another round of testing. If they pass those tests, they will become apprentices to someone in their chosen area until a position becomes available.

It will be hard. They must work hard and be focused. They owe it to the Capitol, and themselves, to be perfect. The Capitol is their family, and the job that they have in the Hunger Games will be their life’s work.

Effie nods, and repeats the oath when they’re told to. It’s the same as the orphanage oath, promising to give their best every day in service of the Capitol, reminding themselves that the Capitol has given them life and purpose, and that they should always be grateful.

Effie  _ is _ grateful. The Capitol is her family, the Capitol is helping her to achieve her dream, why wouldn’t she be thankful?

The training days are long and tiring, and they seem longer the more tired Effie is. She doesn’t let that stop her though – she stays as late as possible in the research library, reading more about the history of the Games and the Escorts that have worked within them until she has them memorised almost verbatim. She logs in as many hours as she can on as many different simulations as she can, learning the layout of the city, how to navigate high-class viewing parties, how the layout of past Arenas came to be.

She doesn’t really talk much to the other trainees. They’re not really supposed to – these people are their competitors, not their friends. They can start being friendly when they make it through the next round.

Two years seem to fly by. All the trainees are in a state of nervous excitement for the first round of testing. Effie makes sure to study harder than ever. She wants to be prepared for whatever the interviews hold.

She’s too anxious to eat much the night before, but she still throws up the morning of her interview. She’s not the only one. As she waits with the other trainees a few leave for the bathroom and return pale and shaking. None of them look each other in the eye. The girl next to Effie in line keeps repeating a list of past Game Makers and the Games they oversaw, like a mantra.

Effie makes sure to take deep breaths to keep calm, and focuses on keeping her heart rate steady. Escorts, after all, are never flustered.

This time her interview is conducted by one person, a person who introduces themself as Trill. Their bright green hair matches their shiny, metallic suit. They pat the seat next to them on the couch for her to sit down and smile at her. Their teeth have been filed into sharp points.

Effie makes sure to give them her most charming smile in return as she sits down.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity,” says Effie, “I’m very grateful to you, and to the whole of the Capitol.”

“Well aren’t you just darling,” coos Trill, “now Effie, tell me about yourself. How have you been finding the training here? How do you feel you’re progressing? Tell me  _ everything _ .”

Effie tells them about her favourite subjects (Past Tributes and their Escorts), and the new things she’s learnt about the Games while she been training (mostly about the Arena’s constructions).

“Now it says here,” says Trill, tapping the clip board with a bright pink nail, “that you want to be an Escort, is that still correct?”

“Oh yes, definitely,” says Effie, “it’s been my dream ever since I was little, and being here has only made me feel more certain than ever.”

Trill gives her a long look up and down, and Effie is careful not to move away as they shift incrementally closer to her. “Being as Escort can be hard work, and it’s an incredibly competitive field as I’m sure you know. You’ll often have to do things you might initially find … unpleasant. Of course, the rewards far outweigh any unpleasantness. Why is it that you think you’d be suited to being as Escort?”

Effie takes a moment to think of how to best phrase her answer. She feels fairly confident about passing the interview to be part of the Games, but the far more important part is getting into the right training stream. It won’t be enough for her to merely be part of it, being an Escort is the only position she wants. 

“I would be good at helping the Tributes to find their place here in the Capitol,” says Effie, “I know that I could help them to enjoy their time here, and that I would be helpful to the smooth running of the Games. I have one of the highest scores in the simulators for the Escort fields, and I feel that if I was given this chance I could make the Capitol proud.”

Trill nods. “Fine points, well made Effie. I’d say that’s all the time we have for you, so why don’t you go let the next person to come on in.”

“I will, thank you again Trill,” says Effie.

This time, it takes them two months to make their decision. It’s  _ excruciating _ . The girl in the bed across from Effie starts having awful nightmares and wakes her up almost nightly. A few of them seem to stop sleeping altogether, walking around in a daze for most of the day and passing out in front of a screen in the library at odd times of the day and night. Effie finds she has almost no appetite.

The people who don’t make it have to go back to the orphanage they came from. There’s other apprenticeships they can do, but they will never get another chance at the Hunger Games.

One the day the results are to be announced, they all arrive at the meeting hall far too early. Effie spends the time like many of the others do, silently staring out the window at the Area. For some of them, this will be the closest they ever get to it.

Finally,  _ finally _ , the results are announced. Six of the trainees don’t make it in at all, and those are announced first. One of the boys bursts into tears and has to be half-carried out by the others. Effie tries to feel sorry for them, but most of her energy is focused on the hope that she will move forward into the Escort program.

They announce the Escorts second-to-last, and with every section leading up to it Effie feels her muscles tense. After what feels like hours, they reach the Escort announcements. There are five of them moving into the Escort program. Effie will be one of them.

She feels faint when they call her name, and stumbles a little on the way out of the room. She looks at the others, and wonders if she looks as pale as they do. One of the other girls in the program sits down with her head between her legs as soon as their out of the room, another rushes to the bathroom. Effie puts one hand on the wall to support herself.

_ She made it. It’s done. She made it. _

They’re given new uniforms, coloured ones this time. As Escorts part of their job will be to help their Tributes to be memorable, so they must also be good at being memorable themselves. They’re each given one colour, and Effie’s colour is pink. It’s the first time she’s has ever worn anything other than grey clothing. She runs the fabric through her fingers. It seems so bright.

They also have to change rooms, and this time they get their own rooms to sleep in. There’s room for a single bed, a wardrobe, and a small table to study on if they want to do so more privately than the research library. Effie feels tears pricking her eyes when she sees it for the first time. Her very own room.

They’re also allowed out of the training house one day a week. They’ll start off with accompanied trips to parks, but their Trainer, Pey, says that after a few weeks they’ll be allowed out on their own, to do whatever they want.

In addition to those personal trips, they’ll also be accompanying Pey to various parties and events around the city, so that they can learn how to properly interact with Capitol society. It’s really so that Pey can assess their performance, making every outing a test to potentially fail. A big part of an Escort’s job is attending events, so it’s a skill they’ll need to perfect if they’re to advance into an apprenticeship with the Games.

Effie studies even more intently than before. She spends a great deal of time researching current fashions and the histories of the influential families of the Capitol. She goes to parties and listens to the gossip. It doesn’t matter so much whether what’s being said is true – in the Capitol, if it’s repeated enough times, it  _ becomes _ true. She starts to get quite good at reading between the lines, sifting through the snippets of information to decide what to pass on and what to keep to herself.

They start out with small events and work their way up the social ladder. People are interested to meet potential Escorts, and Effie charms and flirts her way through each night. She enjoys the parties well enough. It’s so different than anything she’s ever seen in her life that she thinks she could never be bored of it – the clothes, the food, the people, all of it is amazing. But still, after two years of this particular training stage she does feel … tired. Sometimes she wishes she could go home early, but she could  _ never  _ leave before Pey, and she certainly wants to show that she can outlast the other trainees. She has to stand out if she wants to get assigned to a good District.

To keep herself going, she starts to slip away during parties. She’ll stand on the balcony and breathe in the cold air, or if she’s feeling particularly drained she’ll find a small room to sit down in for a little while. As long as she’s not gone too long, no one notices. Small patches of time where she can’t be found might even make her seem mysterious, which is even better.

Unfortunately there’s no balcony on the level of the party she’s currently attending, so a small hallway cupboard will have to do. She sits down on a crate with a sigh, and closes her eyes. She just needs a few moments, to recollect herself. Then she’ll head back.

She’s only been there a few minutes when the door opens. Effie looks up, blinking against the light. There’s a girl about her own age with dark skin and bright blue hair, who looks as shocked to see Effie as Effie does to see her.

“Viola dearest, I’ve met the most charming group, you simply  _ must _ meet them,” says a woman’s voice from around the corner.

The other girl looks panicked, and Effie tugs her inside and shuts the door. Viola stumbles in the small space, falling into Effie. Effie makes a noise of surprise and Viola puts her hand over Effie’s mouth. Her hand smells faintly of cinnamon.

The woman clicks past, sighs heavily, and then clicks her way back to the party. There’s a burst of noise – music, talking, shouting, laughter – as she opens and closes the door. And then the only sound is of their breathing.

Viola removes her hand. “Sorry about that. I think I smudged your lipstick.”

“That’s all right,” says Effie, “I always carry the means to fix myself when necessary.”

Pey always has at least one, big pocket sewn into their clothes, so they don’t have to carry bags with them. She pulls out her pocket mirror and her hot pink lipstick, and the other girl laughs. It reminds Effie of a bird’s morning song, bright and chirpy.

“You  _ are _ very prepared …?”

“Oh,” says Effie, pausing half-way through applying her lipstick, “I’m Effie.”

Effie can just make out the other girl’s smile in the gloom. “I’m Viola. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“It’s lovely to meet you too,” replies Effie automatically, then adds, “although it’s a strange meeting place.”

Viola’s smile takes on a harder quality. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

Effie carefully blots her lipstick before saying, “I suppose you’re resting too?” She tries to keep her voice casual.

Viola laughs her morning-bird laugh again, and Effie relaxes. “Something like that. My mother’s on the hunt for suitors, and I must admit I could use a break from the marriage market for a moment.”

“I’m here as part of my training,” says Effie, without thinking.

“Oh, so you’re –“ Viola breaks off as the sound of the party comes back.

They both freeze, and they’re standing close enough that Effie can feel Viola’s body heat. The sound of footsteps gets closer, and Viola starts shaking. Effie turns, worried, but Viola has her hands over her mouth not in fear, but to suppress laughter. As soon as their eyes meet, laughter bubbles in Effie’s chest and she bites her lip. Not soon enough though, and her snort of laughter causes the footsteps to pause.

Viola puts her hand back on Effie's mouth, the both of them still shaking with silent laughter, pressed together in the small space. Effie leans her head against Viola’s shoulder (and that, too, smells of cinnamon). Eventually, Effie pulls Viola’s hand away, but she can’t quite bring herself to let go. She tangles their fingers together instead. Viola smiles at her, just visible in the darkness, squeezing her hand.

The sound of footsteps returning makes Viola jump, and Effie steadies her. She’s pressing Viola against the wall slightly, and she hopes it’s not messing up Viola’s hair too badly. Effie’s focussed on the bottom of the door, where she can see the shadow of the footsteps pass by, before they disappear back into the party in a burst of noise.

She turns back to Viola, realising that she’s still holding her against the wall. Viola’s shoulders are bare, and the skin under Effie’s hands feels very warm. Viola is staring at her, And Effie quickly lowers her arms, curling and uncurling her hands by her sides awkwardly.

“Sorry, I-” says Effie.

Viola reaches out, taking both her hands, threading their fingers together again. “It’s okay.”

Effie feels suddenly very aware of how close she is to Viola, how hot it is in the tiny cupboard. She doesn’t normally get so inside people’s personal space at these parties. They’re not really supposed to associate with people like that. Viola doesn’t seem to have any objections though, leaning further into Effie’s space. Effie wets her lips nervously, and Viola’s gaze flicks down and then back up to meet Effie’s eyes.

“Oh,” says Effie.

“Can I …” says Viola, hesitantly.

Effie smiles, and leans forward. Viola meets her half-way.

It’s Effie’s first kiss. It’s also wet and probably messier than is ladylike, but then Viola squeezes Effie’s hands and smiles into the kiss, and it’s the best moment of Effie’s life. Effie’s not quite sure how long they stay like that, suspended against one another as Effie grips tightly to Viola’s hands. It feels like forever. It feels like no time at all.

The door is thrown open, and they move apart, blinking in the sudden light.

“Miss Gemmery, your parents are looking for you.”

It’s one of the party staff. He’s well-trained - the only sign of surprise is the twitch of one eyebrow.

“Thank you,” says Viola primly, “please inform them I will be rejoining them shortly.”

They hover in the doorway of the cupboard together. They’re still holding hands, and Viola’s fingers feel comfortable and warm in her’s. Effie squeezes and Viola squeezes back, and they both smile.

“Sorry I smudged your lipstick again,” says Viola.

In the bright light of the corridor, Effie can see their lipsticks have mixed together making a strange blue-purple smudge over Viola’s lips. She imagines she looks much the same, and the thought makes her chest feel tight.

“That’s okay,” says Effie, still slightly breathless, “it was for a good cause. Besides, we match now.”

“What? Oh,” Viola touches her lips, looking at her blue-purple fingertips, “yeah I guess we do.”

She smiles at Effie, wide and bright, and it’s the most beautiful thing Effie has ever seen.

Viola grabs a napkin on their way through the now mostly-empty party, and presses her lips to it. She keeps her gaze locked with Effie’s as she does so, and Effie feels herself flush, but she can’t bring herself to look away. She snatches a pen off a nearby table, and scribbles her address underneath the blue-purple lip lip print.

“Come see me sometime?” said Viola, pushing the napkin into Effie’s hand.

Effie can see Pey over Viola’s shoulder, waiting by the door. Pey tells them to never scowl or frowns if they can help it (and  _ never _ in public), but her smile looks tight.

“When?” says Effie.

“Soon,” says Viola, “Tomorrow, if you can.”

Effie smiles. “I can do tomorrow. I’ll clean my schedule.”

Viola smiles back, and squeezes her hand again before letting go. Effie didn’t even realise they were still holding hands, but now her palm feels strangely empty.

She carefully folds the napkin and tucks it in her pocket, careful not to look at it again until she’s safely in her room. Viola’s neat handwriting stares back at her under the imprint of her lips. Effie’s chest feels tight.

It’s strange, she thinks, to want something apart from being an Escort.

Pey is sternly disapproving, until she learns Viola’s full name. Then, she’s  _ ecstatic _ . Effie honestly hadn’t put Viola, with smudged lipstick and a bright grin, together with Viola  _ Gemmery _ , daughter of an extremely wealthy and influential family, together until Pey praises her choice of companion for the evening.

It’s shockingly easy, after that, to get permission to accept an invitation to a small garden party at the Gemmary estate. Effie spends so much time fussing over the positioning of the flowers in her hair that she’s almost late. She can’t stop smiling on the way there, no matter how hard she tries to school her expression into something more subtle.

Viola is dressed in blues again, her feathered dress making her look like a shimmering stream. There’s water lilies wrapped through her hair, and her platform shoes make her tower above Effie. But what Effie notices most of all is how Viola smiles when she sees her, the same beautiful, bright smile from the night before.

She learns that Viola has five brothers, three of whom are already married, one who is engaged, and one who is eight years old. If Effie looks, she can see the similarities in the tilt of a grin, or a gesture. Mostly though, she’s too focused on Viola.

Their upbringings have, as Capitol children go, been different enough that they find each other fascinating. When Effie mentions the previous Hunger Games, Viola’s mother smoothly turns the talk away from it. Effie follows her lead, too nervous to reach for one of the delicate sandwiches in case anyone notices her hands shaking..

Later, Viola has managed to steal her away from the rest of the party under the pretext of showing her the grounds, and their talk turns unhindered to the Hunger Games.

“My mother doesn’t like me to speak about it in public,” says Viola.

“Why not?” asks Effie, “It’s a perfectly fashionable subject.”

Viola pauses, putting her finger to her lips. Effie obediently quietens, and lets herself be dragged in silence around three corners before they reach a large fountain. The sound of rushing water drowns out the sound of their footsteps.

“Sorry,” whispers Viola, “it’s just you never know who might overhear. And my opinions of the Games aren’t exactly … favourable.”

“Why?” says Effie.

Viola smooths her hands along the feathers of her dress. “If I tell you, you have to  _ swear _ not to tell anyone.”

“Not another living soul,” says Effie, because life has taught her that the best kind of gossip is the kind you’re never supposed to know.

“Okay,” says Viola. She’s silent for a long moment. “During the last Games I … I became close with one of the Tributes. And when he died, I – it made me think, I suppose. About why I was sad that he’d died. It’s not – ” She pauses. “My mother- she said she’s had a lot of people, people that she cared about, die in the Games. I’d never- it’s been hard to make myself like the Games, after that.”

“Oh,” says Effie. She takes a moment to process that information. She’s never met anyone who disliked the Games before.

They sit in silence for a moment. Effie feels like she might cry. 

“I’m training to be an Escort,” said Effie, staring hard at the fountain, “does that mean that you could never make yourself like me?”

Viola takes her hand, squeezing it. “I could never not like you.”

She’s true to her word. Effie progresses through her training, not  _ quite _ at the head of her class but close to it. She strongly suspects that she gets downgraded for attending parties not on their assigned list, and for skipping other optional ones in favour of spending time with Viola, but it’s difficult to want to change her behaviour. To leave Viola behind feels as impossible as leaving the Games behind. She loves both so much.

Viola, to her credit, never makes her choose. Her mother goes far beyond what Effie would expect, helping arrange their meetings at parties and other, more out of the way places. Effie tries to avoid the subject of the Games unless Viola brings it up, whispering questions to Effie under the cover of the sound of the fountain or thick blankets. Effie answers more than she should, but it doesn’t feel like it’s  _ really _ against the rules. Viola is just curious about what she does, how the Games fit together, how many people are involved in what part of it.

It’s fun, even, to talk about the Games with someone she’s not competing with, especially the more insider-type gossip, about everything the Gamemakers have planned for the Second Quarter Quell. They don’t tell trainees  _ details _ , of course, but Effie does hear a tremendous amount of gossip, and she delights in telling Viola all about it.

“It’s just so on my mind, I suppose,” says Effie, “You really don’t mind me talking about it so much?”

Viola smiles at her, taking her hands. “Oh, Effie. You  _ know _ how much I like hearing  _ secrets _ .”

They both giggle at that, trying to muffle the sound. Years later, this will be intertwined with her clearest memory of Viola; Quiet and private, no cameras penetrating the fortress of blankets, Viola smiling across at her in the early morning light, their plain hair twisted together on the pillows, Viola’s hand on her bare skin. The way Viola’s smile widened as Effie blinked the sleep from her eyes and smiled sleepily back at her. The sound of birds in the trees outside Viola’s windows. The feeling of warm contentment setting in her chest as Viola held her. The way it felt, for one pure morning, as though this was everything she would ever need.

They don’t often get to spend the night together, lest they create a scandal, but Effie’s final examination is coming up, and it will be almost a  _ whole week _ before she can see Viola again. They lounge in Viola’s bed until Effie absolutely  _ has _ to leave. They watch the car service Viola’s mother’s organsied pull up in front of the house, waiting to take Effie away.

The nerves that Effie has been ignoring come back in full force, her stomach twisting. It must show on her face, because Viola turns towards her, putting her hands on Effie’s shoulders.

“Listen,” said Viola, “hey, calm down. You are Effie Trinket, you are amazing, and I love you. You can do this.”

Effie took a breath in and out, bringing her hands up to cover Viola’s.

Viola smiled. “You’re going to be  _ great _ , Effie. Come back and tell me all about it.”

Effie leans out the window, heedless of anyone who might be watching them, and waves to Viola until she’s out of sight.

It would be the last time she would ever see Viola again.

She doesn’t know it at the time, of course. She won’t know it until the week is over, after a week of long days and nights of final study, final grading, an hours-long interview process where they rake over every detail. Or, almost every detail - they don’t needle her about Viola during the interview, like she had expected. In retrospect, that should have been her first sign that something was wrong.

She calls Viola’s home only to get a sombre-sounding message that the Gemmery family are not taking calls. She keeps calling, and keeps not getting through, her stomach twisting into tighter knots with every call. In the end, she takes a car to their house. The gates are shut tight, the window dark.

The family has gone away, she’s told. A death in the family. Mother and daughter both with a sudden illness, how tragic.

Effie reaches out to support herself on the gate. Her mind feels as though it’s static.

“What?” says Effie faintly, “But I… I just saw her, I was just with her-”

“Probably best not to spread that around,” says the person on the other side of the intercom, “You know how these things are.”

She doesn’t, not really, but she knows enough to shake herself off and get back into the car that brought her here. She directs them to drive around the city in loops and then buzzes up the divider so she can cry in peace. By the time she gets back to the training facility, the only sign of her grief is a faint pink tinge to the skin around her eyes, easily passed off as experimenting with makeup pigments.

It’s shockingly easy to go through the motions, picking at her meal in the dining room, drifting through the small garden area between the training buildings. With everyone anxious about their final results, she doesn’t look so out of place.

There’s a fountain at the centre of the garden. It’s not quite as elaborate as the one at the Gemmery estate. Trainees still come there sometimes, if they have a secret they want to share, trying to get the sound of rushing water to cover up their words. Effie sits on the cold stone, not thinking of much of anything at all. 

She receives her grades the next day, passing with flying colours. She puts the certification on her bed, and goes to her bedside draw, carefully pulling out a ragged napkin, stained with lipstick. She puts it next to the certification on her bed. Viola is gone. Viola is gone, and now she has nothing left but the Hunger Games again. Perhaps it was always foolish of her, for an orphan to think otherwise. Her life is supposed to be dedicated to the Capital, not in service to herself.

There aren’t any Escort positions empty and probably won’t be until after the next Games, so she’ll likely be placed as someone’s assistant. It will be invaluable experience to have, to work on her very first Games. It’s all she’s ever wanted, since she was a child. It’s hard to think about. It’s hard to think about anything, now, hard to do anything that isn’t lying on her bed and stare at the ceiling. 

The Hunger Games arrives with all the fanfare one would expect from the Second Quarter Quell. Effie runs messages from one office to another, helps set up the green room for Caeser’s interviews, and helps prep teams source fabric. It helps her, too, to be busy.

Parties keep her busy too. It would look too odd for her not to attend, especially with it being her first Games, and so she dresses up in her brightest, pinkest clothing, and tries not to flinch every time she sees a flash bright blue hair.

And with parties, comes gossip.

Not everyone, after all, knows that she had such a close association with Viola. They avoided most public knowledge to keep away from scandal and gossip, and so Effie bites the inside of her cheek through parties, trying to duck out of any conversation that involves the Gemmery family.

Not everyone makes it easy. Some man, an associate of an friend of the Game Maker, keeps talking to her, and Effie makes sure to laugh and nod and make small comments in the correct places, trying to ignore as much as possible of what he’s saying.

He leans closer, making it all the more difficult. “It’s tragic, yes, but-” He lowers his voice. “You know why, of course.”

Effie stills, keeping her smile carefully fixed to her face. “No, why?”

“Well, I  _ heard _ that they were getting inside information on this year’s Games,” says the man, “apparently they were  _ against _ them, can you  _ imagine _ ?”

Effie feels herself go cold.  _ Oh, Effie. You know how much I like hearing secrets…. Come back and tell me all about it _ . She would have, too. She would have told Viola anything, everything.

The man is looking at her expectantly and so Effie offers him a giggle, covering her mouth with a hand so she doesn’t have to work so hard on her smile.

“I mean, I’ve heard about those types, who don’t see the value in the Games, but you wouldn’t expect to see them in the Capital.”

“No,” Effie manages to say, “I wouldn’t.”

After she manages to talk her way out of the party and back home, she doesn’t go to bed. Instead, she wraps herself in her blanket and sits by the window, thinking, as the sun begins to rise. There are too many people, after all, who have the power to make someone disappear as though they had never existed at all.

The thought of revenge makes her feel chilled. She wants to cry and scream and rage, but nothing good would come of it. The only thing that would come from her attempting revenge would be to make her disappear too.

There are days when that seems as though it would be better. She reaches out in the morning for someone who isn’t there, and feels sleepy confusion before her memory kicks in and grief shoots through her. It doesn’t matter how bright she does her makeup, or how vibrant the fabric of her clothes is, to Effie they look dull.

It helps, a little, that she’s kept too busy to watch the Games. She’s not sure that she could, without Viola. She had been so looking forward to watching the Games with her, to showing Viola what she liked about it.

She does watch the ending though.  _ Everyone  _ does.

The axe sales past Haymitch Abernathy’s head and makes him into a Victor, and ten minutes later Effie is summoned to the Game Masters office. There has been an opening for the Escort of District 12. For the entire District 12 team, actually. How lucky for her.

“It will be hard work,” says Rowen, “the Tributes from the outer Districts can be somewhat … negative about the Games. They may treat you unfairly, but as their Escort you must always be on their side and try to help them to the best of your ability. Would you be able to handle that, do you think?”

Effie thinks, for a moment, about the last time she felt Viola’s hand in her’s. There could be nothing more difficult than that.

She smiles, practised and charming. “I certainly could.”

“Wonderful,” says Rowan.

Haymitch, when she meets him, is already on his way to becoming a stony, silent drunk. If he notices that the entire Capital team around him is different than those he saw before the Games, he doesn’t mention it. It’s entirely possible he  _ doesn’t _ . He’s not particularly willing to notice anything outside his glass.

She knows why, of course, but it doesn’t make the victory tour any easier. Still, she is his Escort, and so she makes his excuses and guides him through parties and gets him back to his rooms so that he can sleep it off. He doesn’t particularly seem to appreciate her work.

“What would you know?” he slurs, as she pushes him into his room in the train car, “You people took  _ every-everyone _ \- I can’t even go home.”

“You’ve been given a  _ nicer  _ one,” says Effie, “In Victor’s Village.”

“I don’t fucking want it,” says Haymitch, “I want my  _ family- _ ” His expression twists. “You wouldn’t get it, after this I bet you go home to your fancy house and lounge around with your husband.”

Effie flinches. “I don’t have a husband.”

“Your wife then,” says Haymitch, “or- whoever. Your family. Your  _ family _ -”

He stumbles, falling into bed a little harder than she’s intended to let him.

“I don’t-” Effie presses her lips together. There are ears everywhere on this train.

Haymitch slumps on the bed, covering his face with his hands. Effie straightens, stepping quickly out of the room, closing the door behind her. She leans against the wall for a moment, letting out a shaky breath.

He thinks she has a family. He thinks Escorts are allowed to have a  _ family _ .

She wonders if Viola knew, if this was part of what Viola and her mother had seen in the Games that had made them want to do something as dangerous as change them. Her hands shake as she pushes herself off the wall to walk back to her rooms. It’s not as though he would accept her comfort, if she offered. Her experience of being an orphan is quite different to his, after all.

After his behaviour during the tour Effie almost dreads reaching the Capital. Predictably, Haymitch does not behave any better there. Also, perhaps predictably, other people find it charming. Charming enough to make offers that Haymitch is far too drunk to understand.

Effie spots him from across the room, easily sliding herself in-between Haymitch and the taller, older man beside him. She recognises him, someone in the Gamemaker’s team. Someone important enough to still be  _ in  _ the Gamemaker’s team even after so many other tragic accidents. There’s a moment, just a split second, where Effie can see two paths, one much smoother than the other. All she has to do is look away, and Haymitch becomes someone else’s problem for the night.

She steps forward, onto the rockier path.

“Haymitch,  _ there  _ you are,” says Effie brightly, “there’s someone who wants to speak to you- Oh! I  _ am _ sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting!”

The taller man smiles, leaning back a little. “You are, but for such a beautiful face I don’t mind.”

Effie laughs, because that’s what she’s supposed to do with statements like that.

“As long as you promise to bring him back later.”

“She doesn’t bring me anywhere,” mutters Haymitch.

“Of course,” says Effie brightly.

She guides Haymitch away, keeping her hand on his arm until there’s enough crowd between them and the man. She gestures to one of the waitstaff, ordering a car to take Haymitch back to his rooms.

“Thought you were bringing me back,” says Haymitch.

“Did I say that?” says Effie, “I must have been mistaken about the time.”

“S’still early.”

“Fashionably early for you to leave,” says Effie, “It’s the done thing, you know.”

Haymitch blinks at her, swaying a little on his feet. Out of the corner of her eye, Effie spots the taller man approaching.

“Why don’t we go wait downstairs,” says Effie.

She manages to get them both in the car before they can be spotted and back to the hotel before Haymitch can throw up. She gets him into bed, feeling a spike of jealousy as he falls into sleep almost immediately. She stays for a while, one hand on the doorway that separates their rooms, watching the easy rise and fall of his chest.

It’s a relief when he finally returns to District 12. She only has to look after herself, at least for a little while. She goes to parties, because she’s supposed to, and flirts outrageously with everyone, because she’s supposed to do that, too. It’s easy, at first, because her District was the winner. People  _ always _ want to talk to the Escort of the winner.

The years after that are much harder. When your District only has one Victor, and that Victor is a sullen drunk, people are much less willing to do favours for you. Haymitch, despite Effie’s best efforts, has firmly decided to leave his charm behind. He makes as much of a scene at every Reaping as he can manage. If he weren’t so upset every time his Tributes lost, she’d think he were doing it to her on purpose.

Still, Effie is his Escort, and so she does what she must - she grits her teeth and sets about charming as many people as possible, so the prep team has at least  _ something _ to work with. It’s far easier to get favours than it is to get money, so Effie pulls on as many strings as she can get ahold of. 

During the Games, it is both harder, and easier. Harder, because Haymitch is there, ruining people’s goodwill for District 12 by purposefully spilling his drinks on them. Easier, because Effie can talk to the other Victors, who are at least willing to point out who from their District has the best food, the best technicians, the best clothing. Some of them are even  _ nice _ .

Finnick Odar, surprisingly, is one such Victor. It helps that they see each other so often, at parties late at night where they’re in the process of manufacturing some scandal for their own interest. She recognises the tall man cornering him, and almost interrupts, but Finnick laughs, putting a hand on the man’s arm, drawing his attention away for a moment so he can give Effie a small shake of his head.

He and the man disappear together for a while before Finnick returns. She hands him a drink - tonic water with lime, his preferred. He raises his eyebrows at her after he takes a sip.

“Paying attention to the small details is the work of an Escort,” says Effie.

Finnick laughs. They chat together through the evening about nothing in particular, which feels almost like a night off. Their photo makes it into the morning papers anyway, the image cropped to make their positions seem more intimate. There’s a note stuck to the inside page of her paper.

_ Breakfast? _

It becomes something they do, when one of them needs a break from desperate charm. Not too often, not so often that it could be construed as anything other than empty social climbing, not enough to put either of them in danger. Just two vapid friends meeting up for lunch in the Capital, exchanging harmless gossip.

If, sometimes, they round out their lunch with a leisurely walk by one of the Capital large fountains, well, that’s no cause for alarm. It’s not as though either of them are ever told any state secrets.

It makes it easier to bear the passing of the years. She finds a routine in it, spending her time in-between babysitting Haymitch and whatever children she has to draw from District 12 by making the most of her position. She won’t ever advance, not unless District 12 suddenly starts to produce Victors, but she’s been an Escort long enough now to make it through to the end of a party without being snubbed. She even gets to enjoy herself, once in a while.

Cecelia, from District 8, smiles whenever she sees Effie at a party, and Effie always makes time to speak to her. It’s something of a relief to talk about something other than the Games, and Cecelia always has  _ something _ they can talk about that won’t raise too much suspicion.

“I feel as though you are  _ always _ pregnant during the Games,” says Effie.

Cecelia is only just beginning to show, but much has been made of it in the lead up to the Games, an entire District 8 marketing campaign around a future baby, even going so far as to bring her to the Capital before the Games have even started.

Cecelia laughs. The sound of it is so genuine it makes Effie’s breath catch in her throat.

“Well, better to do it before than during,” says Cecelia, “Keeps away certain interests.”

Effie nods. “Very wise.”

She boards the train that night, preparing herself for another excruciating Reaping. She doubts Haymitch will be any better behaved during the 74th Hunger Games than he has at the proceeding twenty. She doubts very little will be different at all.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins


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